


3 AM

by VigilantShadow



Series: Amnesty Prompt Fills [6]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast)
Genre: Discussions of violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantShadow/pseuds/VigilantShadow
Summary: Duck's used to getting woken up at three in the morning. He's not used to getting woken up at three in the morning by guys that can see the future.





	3 AM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CertifiedPissWizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/gifts).



> This fic was written for actually-a-taco on Tumblr.
> 
> [You can also read this on my blog!](http://sternspatreon.tumblr.com/post/183684281514/actually-a-taco-here-it-is-i-forgot-the-if-i)

Duck was used to being woken up at three in the morning. He’d gotten into the habit back in high school, when Juno used to wake him up for delinquent bullshit by throwing rocks at his window. Then Janey got old enough to try and sneak out of the house, herself, and turned out to be very, very bad at it. Then he’d gotten a cat, and much as he loved Smoky the Bear he didn’t particularly love how she came into his room and sat directly on his face as a signal it was time for her to eat.

That wasn’t even taking into consideration that every once in a while his boss would ring him up at fuck off o’clock to go deal with kids dicking around in the woods. So, when Duck’s landline pulled him out of a very nice, not prophetic dream, he assumed it was work. Which meant that, instead of ignoring the problem until it went away, he stumbled over to his desk and picked up.

It wasn’t work.

“Uh, hey?” Duck was aware he sounded halfway between ‘I have a cold’ and ‘the way I sounded six months after I started T.’ Even if he’d gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night, his voice hadn’t.

“Whose phone is this?” An uneven voice asked from the other end of the line. There was a soft rumbling in the background, and it took Duck’s sleep-heavy brain a moment to identify it as the passing of cars.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“There were several numbers I might have dialed. I didn’t check which future this was.”

“What the fuck?”

The voice took a deep, shaky breath.

“Ah. I see now. Hello, Duck Newton.”

“What the fuck?”

“Hmm. Well. I skipped over this part of the conversation when I was looking into this particular future. It ended in you expressing sympathy, so I…assumed this would go well.”

“Yeah, well, it’s sorta a courtesy thing to introduce yourself ‘fore you ask someone’s name. Or just uh, fuckin’ pull it outta thin air I guess.”

There is a long moment of silence. Another uneven breath.

“My apologies.” A long silence. Duck wondered if the owner of the voice had fallen left, if this was a prank call all along. “I’m Indrid. Indrid Cold.”

That name felt a quarter of the way to familiar. His first thought was that it must’ve been someone from town, but usually when he sort of recognized names he at least got a sense of place. Like I think I went to school with that guy, or his ma knew my ma. This felt more like a name from a book he’d read years ago and forgotten.

“Well, Indrid. That’s step one, I guess. Now, why’re you calling me at three in the mornin’ on a Tuesday?”

“Ah, that is a good question.”

Duck was tempted to hang up and go back to sleep. It would only take an hour, maybe two, and if he got lucky he wouldn’t have to deal with any bullshit dreams. Which, he didn’t usually get lucky when he had to go to bed twice in one night. Then, the voice spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been having a bad night.”

God damnit. That broken tone of voice was one of his biggest weaknesses.

“Uh. That’s rough, buddy.”

Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how to deal with it.

“In all honesty, I just opened a phone book to a random page and dialed one of the numbers that wouldn’t lead to disaster.” A pause. “Actually, now that this conversation has started there’s only and eighty five percent chance this conversation won’t lead to disaster. Or, I suppose it would be more eloquent to say there is a fifteen percent chance this conversation will. Hm. Twenty percent, now that I’ve kept talking. I’m going to be quiet now.”

“Mm. Well. Okay. So.” Duck wouldn’t be great at this conversation if he were properly awake, and he sure wasn’t properly awake. “Do you want to talk about why you’ve been having a bad night, ‘cuz otherwise I’ve really got nothing to offer here.”

“Hm. A thirty percent chance it will end in disaster, then. That doesn’t usually happen spontaneously. You’re a surprising man, Duck.”

Duck was pretty sure Indrid meant that to be an honor. Technically, that meant he was apparently good at getting out of his shitty fate, which was awesome. But it also implied he got up to more interesting shit than he really did, which was perplexing as hell.

“Yeah, sure. So, are we answerin’ my questions, or just sayin’ bigger numbers? ‘Cuz I gotta be up in, like, two and a half hours, so.”

There was a thud, and the exact pitch of it sounded…familiar. Duck sat on the edge of his desk and shut his eyes. A second later it washed over him, raising the hairs on his arms like cold air. It was one of the dreams he hoped wasn’t from Minerva, but that he remembered too clearly for it not to be. He took a breath to wish he’d figured out how to push those dreams all the way down, because hearing that noise and feeling the echo of his memory kind of hurt his brain.

Still, it was a mystery he could solve without destiny or danger. He might as well try.

He pictured a man in a phone booth, taking the receiver off the hook and pushing coins in with shaking hands. Flipping open the phone book. His hands sliding sharp up a page, a red bead of blood willing up on his pale finger. The man hissed, setting a thermos of something down and staring at the papercut like it was the last step in a marathon of tragedy. He slid down the door as he dialed, staring up at the ceiling of the booth. Past his red glasses, Duck couldn’t read his expression as the phone rang, rang, rang.

Time sailed forward in the way of dreams, and Indrid’s jaw clenched. He took a deep breath, thin shoulders rising and falling, and softly thumped his head against the door. That was where the dream was shattered by his alarm clock.

Duck sighed.

“So, I guess I’ve only got two and a half hours for this talk.”

Indrid let out a soft, breathy laugh. Even though the dream had ended, somehow Duck could picture the hint of a smile.

“I think I’ve made…a bit of a mistake.”

“What, like you put your shirt on inside out, or?”

“A man died,” Indrid’s words rushed out, and it took a second for Duck to figure out what they meant.

“Uh?”

“Only twenty-nine percent, now. If I were having a better day, this would be fascinating.”

Duck tried to impress on Indrid exactly how unimpressed he was by that.

“Sorry, it’s a habit. I’ll try my best to…refrain.” Indrid sounded halfway sorry. Duck got the impression that wasn’t a common thing. “I’m…sorry, I’m looking ahead. In the futures where I tell you I can, well, check the future, you aren’t surprised.”

He actually was, just a little. He’d. Well. He’d known logically there had to be other people that could see the future. But he’d never met them, and somewhere in the thirty years since Minerva appeared at the foot of his bed he’d resigned himself to the fact he never would.

“No, I’m not,” he lied.

“Do you- No, you don’t. See it all the time, I mean.”

“I-“

“Don’t,” Indrid finished with him. Duck very carefully didn’t voice his thought about how much that shit was gonna annoy him if it kept up. “Hm, you’re right. It probably- Yes, there was a future where you said that out loud. I’m probably going to-“ Indrid went silent. Then, a moment later, in a quiet voice, “Please. Don’t hang up. Alright, good.”

“We gonna talk, or are you gonna have the whole conversation for me?” Duck rolled his shoulders, wishing that being the chosen one kept him from getting tension in them.

“It’s a little inefficient for me not to, don’t you think? When it comes to conversations like these, there’s only one response you’ll have to any given question. We’ll get on to the uncertainties sooner if you let me-“

“Yeah, well, we could also get to ‘em sooner if you talked about what was botherin’ you instead of goin’ off about what you think I’m gonna say.” Quiet from the other end of the line. “You called to talk about some problem, so. Let’s talk about it.”

“I see the future, all the time,” Indrid repeated, and Duck was about to say yeah, well that doesn’t give you an excuse to just go off and interrupt a guy’s thoughts, but then he caught the exhaustion in Indrid’s tone and realized that wasn’t what he was saying. “Have you ever had one of your dreams, seen some disaster you could prevent, and realized that preventing it would only cause more suffering?”

Duck sighed.

“Once or twice, yeah.”

“What did you do?”

Duck swallowed down that twist of bitterness that rose in his throat anytime he thought about that kind of question. The answer was always the same, of course. Nothing, he did nothing. He waited for Indrid to comment on that, because there had to be some future where he scraped together the energy it took to say that out loud. But the quiet stretched on, and Duck knew that in the end his inability to answer was an answer in itself.

“He was crossing the street. If I had intervened, then the truck which nearly hit him would have most likely swerved, colliding with two other cars before falling onto its side and killing the drivers of all three. And so I did nothing.”

“Well-“

“You don’t actually understand. You’re going to say you understand, but I can tell you don’t. I’m not sure why. There’s no world where you explain.”

Duck supposed he had to give Indrid that. Despite all intentions not to, he was starting to see his point about that little habit being convenient. It sure got the embarrassment of trying to lie out of the way.

“Alright, no. I don’t.” He had the feeling that the him in those futures didn’t tell Indrid why because he didn’t know himself. This was another one of the reasons he kept out of prophecy shit; if he stuck his nose in things, the consequences were his. Just his. He couldn’t exactly shove tragedy on someone else if he was standing next to it with a sword and fucking super strength.

“That justification was an excuse, I think.” Indrid was trying to keep his voice flat, unaffected. There was a tightness in his throat. “I have made…a habit of doing nothing. In my experience, it rarely changes anything, in the end.”

Duck tried to imagine it. He couldn’t. Couldn’t imagine standing on the side of the road and watching.

Shit, maybe that was why he didn’t understand. If he couldn’t figure out what the shit in his visions meant, then how could he blame himself for not stopping it? If he knew, if he knew, there was no way he could stand there. It’d eat him. Even thinking about it left him feeling something ugly in the back of his throat.

Duck heard another thud, this time loud enough that he jolts the receiver away from his ear with a wince. Indrid dropping the receiver, probably. Maybe throwing it. Duck held his in his lap, staring at it in some hope of a solution. He wouldn’t find one, of course; the conversation was over. Indrid wouldn’t be able to hear, not with the phone lying on the floor.

Except maybe he could. Duck brought the receiver back to his ear.

“Hey, Indrid. Listen. You said there are a lot of futures out there, right? Well, maybe there’s one where you pick the phone back up, so. I’ll talk to Indrid from that one, I guess. Where are you? Like, what address.”

Nothing. Well, he’d tried. More than he usually did, at least. Duck was considering hanging up, but then he heard shifting, a hand picking up the phone.

“The corner of Eastwood Lane and Campground Road,” Indrid said, quietly. “There are no futures where you explain why you’re asking.”

“You’ll see,” Duck replies, taking stock of everything he’d need for a drive to the opposite side of town.

“Mm, that’s what you say in all of them.”


End file.
